coloured chicks and their hair


I don’t know why I make the mistake of telling people about this blog. I should really stop. People close to me shouldn’t be allowed to know of all my exploits, sexual or otherwise. I should relay these intimate details to them over time. I think a five-year period constitutes a decent amount of time.

WWVD (paraphrasing What Would Jesus Do) if he finds out I’m actually a big, chubby racist? Would he choke on his muesli (he doesn’t do cornflakes), or would he take it in his stride?

See, a new girlie joined our company this week. I already knew she’s coloured, I just didn’t know anything else about her. Monday morning was spent getting all excited about this new addition to our staff and, by the time I got to the office, I had already envisioned what good friends we’ll become. (I still love you very much, LA!!)

I walk up the stairs (there is no lift or anything to ease the pain of the single flight of stairs to work), hurriedly trot to the door, open it and … bam! I’m confronted with the new chickie sitting in one of the tub chairs, looking very forlorn. My first thought was not “Wow, she’s quite pretty”, or “Good god, she’s dark of complexion”. No, my first thought was “Thank god she’s got straight hair”.

Yes, folks, it’s true: coloured people are pretty big racists. But don’t believe everything I say just because I happen to be your favourite coloured slash atheist (Did you notice the pretty Scarlet Letter?)slash straight-forward, tell it like it is, shoot from the hip and be damned blogger.

See, straight hair is something almost all of us want. Those who were not blessed with straight hair, pray to Jesus or Allah or someone for straight hair. Or we blow-dry our hair until it resembles a wig. Why do we do this? Um… so that we’ll look white(r)?

(Coloured) People with straight hair score instant brownie points as being smart, pretty and sociable, even if that description only suits their dog.

I’ve been trying to outsmart my biases for a looong time, but have yet to have some semblance of success at doing so.

Whether this chika is really as smart as her straight hair suggests, is a matter for another blog post. Let’s just say that I abhor the way the youngsters communicate. Perhaps it has nothing to do with brains, but it does reflect poorly on the way others perceive you. Viva full, complex sentences in an MSN message!


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